


Life is Fleeting. Death is Eternal. (Take Good Care of Me)

by A_dot_Gab



Series: Life is Fleeting. Death is Eternal. Take Good Care of Me. [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M, Terminal Illnesses, coughing up blood, sorry - Freeform, soundtrack inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5742565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_dot_Gab/pseuds/A_dot_Gab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why do you write like you're running out of time? Like you're running out of time? Are you running out of time?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, yes, again with the new poster please be kind and help me thing. Still, enjoy!

Hamilton was running out of time, the doctors had said so all those years ago, as he recovered, alone, after losing his mother. The doctor had said so now. It started with the chuffing. At first it was nothing, a little itch in his throat that he kept having to scratch. But it grew into a cough, became wet, not with phlegm, but with blood. He struggled to breathe after each attack. At the very least he could predict when they were coming, and remove himself from company accordingly. Until Burr called in his office. Hamilton had been outside already twice, and Burr was growing irritated.

"If I didn't know better I'd think you were avoiding me. You're unusually quiet today as well." Burr remarked smartly after Hamilton's third trip outside to expel the blood filling his lungs. Hamilton grunted in way of a response and sat down to allow Burr to finish what he'd been saying about the case. Burr hesitated at Hamilton's uncharacteristic behavior but continued. "As I was saying, . . .",he made it four words in before the attack hit Hamilton unannounced. As Hamilton coughed, his cheeks burned with pain and shame for letting Burr see him so weak. When Burr turned to get water from a pitcher across the room, Hamilton attempted to hide the blood. It seemed like a bit more this time. He was running out of time fast. And yet he still wasn't fast enough. "Hamilton?", Burr questioned, seeing the man bent away from him and wiping his face and hands furiously. Burr walked back over to Hamilton, the tang of fresh blood growing as he approached the man. "Alexander." Burr called firmly. Hamilton looked up, a smear of blood still near his lips. "What the hell is going on? Is this why you've been writing like a madman?" Hamilton hung his head in shame, still uncharacteristically silent. "Answer me." Burr snapped. Hamilton didn't stir. "Answer me NOW!" Burr yelled, slamming the glass down and splashing water onto Hamilton's desk. The man's head rose slowly.

"You should go, Burr." Hamilton whispered, almost too quietly for Burr to hear.

"Not until I know what's going on." Burr replied firmly. Hamilton visibly struggled with himself before sighing.

"Aaron, I'm dying."

Burr sucked in a gasp, recollected himself. "Since when?" he choked out through his surprise.

"Two months ago the coughing started. Little tickles in my throat. The blood started about two and a half weeks after. It's progressively gotten worse." Hamilton began, haltingly finding his voice. "Eliza and Angelica forced me to see a doctor when they saw blood on my handkerchief. He told me the same thing I've known since my childhood illness. My lungs are damaged and the illness would eventually come back for me. Now it has and I'm running out of time."

Burr struggled for words. "Were you going to tell anyone, Alexander? Were you going to tell me?"

Hamilton cleared his throat and smiled faintly before speaking. "I had hoped it would pass. Delusional, but then, you all think I am anyway." Burr was in no mood for humor.

"How long do you have Alexander?" he asked softly.

"If I'm lucky," Hamilton lightly mused, "I might see the new year." Burr visibly paled.

"It's mid-November, Alexander." Burr deadpanned.

"I know." he replied softly, humor gone, replaced by a deep sadness. It was inappropriate, familiar, but Aaron didn't care. He circled the desk and wrapped Alexander in a hug.

"I'm here." he crooned into the man's hair, rocking him slowly, letting Alexander dampen his shirt with tears and cling on to him desperately.

"Oh God please don't leave me, Aaron!" Alexander desperately sobbed. "I'm scared! I'm scared to die alone! And there's so much I haven't done! Oh God!" And any ire Aaron had ever held towards Alexander melted away as the snow would in spring.

"I will be here till the end." Aaron murmured, just loud enough for Alexander to hear and be comforted. The pair continued to rock, Alexander clinging to Aaron tightly and Aaron holding Alexander as close as possible. After a couple minutes, Aaron released the deeply shaken man and Alexander whimpered. "Relax." Burr whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of Alexander's head(neither of them questioned it or minded). "I'm calling my carriage to take you home. And yes, I'm coming with you." He added at Alexander's look of panic. And that was exactly what Aaron did. He took Alexander home (banished any indecent thoughts he had of the vulnerable man), tucked him into bed and laid on top of the sheets until Alexander insisted he lay under the covers. Aaron obliged and Alexander happily curled into him before letting his breathing even out and dropping into sleep. Aaron followed quickly after.


	2. Three Months Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short epilogue. If you want to ignore the tags and pretend this ends well, stop here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.

Burr walked away from the crowd, from the grave, stiff-backed and emotionless. Others would call it cold. Alexander would've seen it only as pain, a vulnerability Aaron has shown few people in many years. But Hamilton (Burr chided himself) was dead. Hamilton, the goddamned political idiot, had finally drowned in his own blood (and good riddance too if Burr's political career had anything to say about it). Burr made it all the way to the trunk at the foot of their bed, no, his bed (always had been, if he lied to himself) before he sank to his knees and cried. "Alexander. . .".


End file.
